


the bus to kingston {larry au fic}

by foryoureyesonlylarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 14:42:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16307138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foryoureyesonlylarry/pseuds/foryoureyesonlylarry
Summary: Synopsis: Harry Styles is a world-famous rock star. Louis Tomlinson is a small-town, football loving, closet musician. When Harry gets on the wrong bus, then becomes stuck in Louis’ town, the electricity between the two keeps them warm throughout the snowstorm.





	the bus to kingston {larry au fic}

**Author's Note:**

> this is an ongoing fic i'm writing so please bear with me. i would love to hear any feedback you have on it and any suggestions for how to improve it :) all the love

Alec with a C. If Harry could have an alter ego, his name would be Alec. He would unabashedly wear pink nail polish and drink Cosmopolitans all through the night. He would never be caught dead without lip gloss on and would be approachable, yet dignified. He wouldn’t need money, though he would have it. He wouldn’t need a job, though he would have one. He would be Alec Martin, not Harry Styles.  
The wild fame was too much for him more than he liked to admit. The media always hounding him wanting to find some small spark with which to create their next gossip story. The rabid fans who found his personal information and went too far. The fake circles of ladder climbers who cared more about their social status than Harry’s feelings. He was sick of it all and had been sick of it all for ages. He couldn’t walk the streets like a normal person but he couldn’t bring himself to hang around his so-called friends anymore. The only thing he could bear was the sex girls gave him. Emotionless besides his moans, Harry went through women like an addict goes through bottles. He never felt anything for any of them, even when he would come.  
He had always wondered what it would be like to give up the rock star life. Give up the fame and the exposure. Would he feel any different? Or has he been too fucked up for too long that nothing would help?  
The high-pitched shrill startled Harry. The girl riding him was making the annoying noise. He grunted and sat up, pushing her off of him. She pouted, wiping the sweat off her forehead.  
“I was almost finished.”  
Harry licked his lips. “You took too long,” he said in a raspy voice.  
She huffed and crawled out of his bed, sliding on her dress and shoes before scurrying out of the room.  
Harry sighed and pushed his curly mop of hair off his face. She was definitely gorgeous, but so was the last girl and the girl before. He would always have gorgeous girls because he was a rock star. Rockstars always get the lookers.  
After a few moments, he climbed out of bed, slid a pair of joggers onto his bare legs, and walked to the kitchen.  
“What happened this time?” Niall questioned. He was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the counter next to the stove.  
Harry shrugged at Niall’s back. Clearing his throat, he answered. “‘Dunno, man.”  
Niall turned around to face Harry, taking a big bite out of the sandwich, basically eating half of it in one go. “You’ll come to the club with us tonight, right?”  
“I guess. I’ll have the tour bus pick me up straight from there,” Harry shrugged again. He only goes to the club nowadays to get drunk and forget his problems. He was on a short break from his second worldwide tour, but he had a show in three days in New York. The bus was leaving tonight so Harry and his team would get to the city two days early, just enough time for his scheduled TV and radio appearances scattered around the city.  
Niall shuffled out of the kitchen, grabbing the back of Harry’s neck and pulling it closer to kiss his temple. Harry giggled and pushed Niall’s face away with his whole hand. “You smell like shit, H. And that girl that ran out of here was proper cute.”  
Harry shook his head and rolled his eyes. “No, she was hot. There’s a big difference between cute and hot. Besides, when’s the last time you were with a girl, mate?” Harry meant to tease Niall with his comment, but he immediately regretted it after Niall’s pink face dropped to the ground.  
“Shit, Niall, I-I didn’t mean it malicious. I didn’t mean it like that.”  
Niall flicked his eyes up, keeping his head faced down. He rubbed his neck with his left hand, still holding his sandwich in the right. “No, it’s all good. No worries. It was a long time ago and I’m over it.”  
“I’m really sorry again, mate.”

***

The club was the same as always. Loud throbbing music, pulsating lights, ladder-climbing socialites. It all made Harry feel nauseous. Ironically, the only way for him to stop feeling sick was drinking. He stumbled his way out of the building sometime after 2 in the morning, having lost Niall in the crowds much earlier. The cold early November air nipped at his skin, making him pull his jean jacket closer to his warm body. He located his nondescript tour bus across the street through his blurred vision and made his way to it, almost getting run over by a car in the process.  
He stumbled up the bus stairs, pausing at the top to catch his breath. He wasn’t fully drunk despite having a good number of drinks (an amount that would get most people plastered). But Harry built up a tolerance to alcohol after consuming obscene amounts over the last couple of years. He wasn’t sober though, that was for sure. It was precisely because of his tipsy state that he didn’t realize exactly where he was until the bus jolted to life and rumbled out of the parking lot.  
The illuminated blue sign cast light onto Harry’s face as he stood at the front of the bus, faced with a bunch of old people with gaping mouths and wide stares.  
He was on a Greyhound bus. Not his tour bus.  
Realizing his mistake, he spun around to the driver. A middle age man with a scruffy black beard and oily slick hair turned the wheel of the bus to the right, making a turn around the corner. The club, and the right bus, were getting farther away by the minute. He had to do something fast.  
“Sir,” Harry gasped for breath as he spoke, “Please stop this bus. I need to get off.”  
The driver didn’t stop, just slowed down as he curved onto the entrance ramp to a highway. “Sorry, man. Next stop is Kingston.”  
Harry’s mind was racing faster than the bus, which was now on the highway. “What?” he asked breathlessly.  
“This is the red-eye bus express to Kingston. Now, take a seat, dude.”  
Harry clambered to the first open seat he saw, in the second row on the right. His mind was still going. Was he really that drunk that he got on the wrong bus and was now en route to a random city called Kingsville or whatever the fuck the driver said? Charlotte. His manager would know what to do. He pulled his phone out and thumbed her number in (yes, he was one of those people who memorized people’s numbers instead of adding their contact. He only really had to remember a dozen or so numbers; everyone else was unimportant to him).  
“Harry?”  
“Charlotte,” he gasped.  
“How drunk are you and are you on the bus yet?” she asked. He could hear her lips smacking together, probably chewing gum. She was trying to quit smoking.  
“Well...I am on a bus. Just not the one you’re talking about…”  
There was a pause. “What the fuck does that even mean? Either you’re on the bus or not.”  
“I got on the wrong bus. I’m going to this...ah, fuck, what’s the fucking city’s name?” Harry fumbled.  
From the window seat next to him, a high voice chimed out. “Kingston.”  
Startled, Harry looked at the man next to him, just realizing someone was there. He was a small creature, with brown locks swept to the side of his face, stubble carving out his cheekbones, and piercing eyes. “Ah, thanks mate,” he said, raising his eyebrows.  
Turning away from his seatmate, Harry listened as Charlotte cursed him out. It was mainly a lot of ‘You’re meant to appear on TV tomorrow. Your schedule is packed starting at 8 am.’  
After a minute or two of taking the beating from her, Harry said, “Just find a way to get me before tomorrow morning, alright?” He slammed his phone down on his lap with a long sigh.  
“Girlfriend troubles?” the same voice squeaked from next to him. Harry shifted his eyes to the right, then moved his whole head to get a better look.  
“You, uh, you could say that.” What? Does Harry tell this tiny stranger that he is one of the most famous people in the world and he accidentally got on the wrong bus with a bunch of old people headed to a no-name town in who knows where? The man obviously doesn’t recognize him...yet.  
“Well, at least there’s one person here who doesn’t qualify for the senior's menu,” the man giggled to himself. The pure sound made Harry’s stomach do a weird turning thing.  
Harry smiled politely, then turned back in his seat, adjusting his jacket.  
“Look, we match,” the stranger chuckled. Indeed, they were both wearing jean jackets, though Harry’s was a lighter wash.  
“Mmm…” was Harry’s reply. He ran a hand through his mop of curls and let out his second long sigh in the last 30 seconds.  
“I’m Louis...and you are?” The stranger’s hand was outstretched in the empty space between the two of them.  
Harry’s first thought was that this man was especially chatty. Why would anyone want to talk to a stranger on a grimy bus in the middle of the night? But then he realized Louis was expecting a name. If he said Harry, there was a very slim chance that Louis wouldn’t finally recognize who he was.  
All the girls he’d fucked came swirling back in his mind, the flashing cameras, the screaming hoards of people, the sleepless nights, the headaches from his anxiety. It all pulsated through his mind, and before he knew it he had replied.  
“Alec, like with a C?” Louis cocked his eyebrow.  
Harry licked his lips and blinked. “Yeah, Alec with a C. Alec Martin. It’s a pleasure.”  
“The pleasure’s all mine,” the stranger smirked. But he wasn’t a stranger anymore. (And he would soon be a lot more to Harry than ‘stranger’).  
“I like it.”  
Harry felt that thing in his stomach again and found it odd that he felt proud Louis liked the made-up name he chose for himself.  
He stretched his body in the uncomfortable vinyl bus seat and reached into his jacket pockets to only pull out a couple coins, a napkin from the bar in the club, and a piece of bubble gum.  
As he unwrapped the bubble gum wrapper, his phone started ringing loudly. The old couple sitting in front of them coughed loudly, and the lady turned around and gave Harry a death stare.  
He cleared his throat and fumbled to answer his phone. It was Niall.  
“Hey, mate.” He popped the bubble gum into his mouth.  
“Harry where are ya! One minute you were next to me, then all those girls came over and you were gone,” Niall said loudly into the phone, the muffled music from the club audible in the background.  
“Yeah about that…” Harry scratched behind his ear. “I’m on my way to New York.” Technically he was, just not to the city.  
Niall groaned. “Already, wow. You’ll be back next week, right?”  
“Yes.” He blew a bubble and it popped a moment later, getting sticky gum stuck to his lips.  
“And you’re not fibbing like last time?”  
“I’m not.”  
“And we will play footy when you come back?”  
“Yes, we will play footy when I get back, Niall.” Harry sighed.  
He locked his phone, and a moment later he heard the stranger...sorry he has a name...Louis. He heard Louis clear his throat. He glanced over and Louis took that as an opportunity to start talking.  
“You play football?” His eyes were sparkling.  
“Just recreationally, yeah.”  
“Mate, that’s so cool! I play as well. Almost went to the pros!”  
“What happened?” Harry pressed on.  
“Well, I blew out me knee. Had to get surgery and it’s fixed now, but I basically ensured I would never go pro. I still play back home though. Recreational, too, I suppose.”  
“Where is back home?” Harry asked, now invested in this conversation. He didn’t know why, but every time Louis talked, Harry got that weird warm feeling in his gut. Something about the angelic, soft way Louis spoke, how carefully he chose every word and how his eyebrows furrowed as he listened to Harry reply got to him.  
“Kingston,” Louis smirked.  
The weird feeling went away, being replaced by embarrassment. Harry’s cheeks turned red. Why else would Louis be on this bus with a bunch of old people. He lived in this small fucking city. What a moron Harry is.  
“Oh...obviously,” Harry muttered, turning his head away from Louis.  
He could hear Louis chuckle to himself.  
For the remaining 80 miles to Kingston, Harry and Louis didn't talk. Louis had his headphones on, blasting Arctic Monkeys music and Harry closed his eyes, soon falling asleep.  
The jerking of the bus woke Harry up quickly. He rubbed his eyes, and after they adjusted to the bright lights of the bus station, he realized his seat was warm and quite honestly very comfortable. He pulled his head up and realized, to his complete embarrassment, his head had somehow fallen onto Louis’ shoulder.  
Louis was very much awake, which meant that he was aware of the placement of Harry’s head. And he didn’t move it, which meant he was okay with it. The weird feeling came back.  
“Ahem, sorry,” he said through his blushing cheeks.  
“‘S alright, mate,” Louis replied smirking.  
Harry ran a hand through his hair and turned his upper body to face the window (and Louis) to crack his back. He caught Louis staring at him. He felt a strong sense of pride, for whatever reason.  
Louis opened his mouth. “You have some bubble gum stuck,” he said as he reached up (yes, up. Harry was a good bit taller than Louis, even when sitting) and pulled a bit of dried bubble gum from Harry’s lips.  
When his fingers met with Harry’s face, it was like fireworks went off in Harry’s brain. He never had felt anything like that with anyone in his entire life. He was a rock star, for gosh darn’s sake. He should have experienced everything and known everything about everything. But he had never felt anything like this before, and he never wanted Louis’ touch to part with him. But, alas, Louis pulled his hand back, brushing the gum remnants onto the floor.  
Harry was still in shock, so Louis took that opportunity to squeeze past him (it wasn’t hard, given that Louis was that tiny) and exit the bus.


End file.
